Chapter Four
"Baxter Stockman," the little man said to himself in the bathroom mirror. He was short and wore a lab coat that had the logo for Stockgen on it. He also wore a yellow bowtie and his hair was a mess, but he didn't seem to notice. He pushed the thick glasses up on his face. "It won't be long now, Baxter. Wait and see! I will have my-"
"Give it a rest, weirdo," someone shouted from the bathroom stall.
The man jumped. He thought he was alone in the bathroom. He needed to be more careful if his plan was to succeed. "Mind your business," he said in a squeaky voice, trying to make it seem like talking to oneself was completely normal. "Baxter Stockman will not tolerate this kind of ridicule!"
"It's bad enough we have to work for the man," the guy from the stall responded, "but you in here repeating his name over and over. You got some kind of obsession with the boss?"
"The boss?" He raised a fist. "I'll have you know-" he stopped himself. This was not the time nor place. He cleared his throat and straightening his shirt. "Have a good day, fellow employee."
"Whatever," the man from the stall replied.
The little man stepped out of the bathroom and into a hallway. Surrounding him were other Stockgen employees dressed similar to himself, although some were from T.C.R.I. and its sister company, T.G.R.I. The little man hated them all, but he was invisible to them. That was exactly how he preferred things to be. It was exactly how things had to be if the plan was to succeed.
He walked down the long hallway and upon turning the corner he was now on a long metal bridge with glass on each side. Beneath him was a large factory area. On the conveyer belts were prototypes for all sorts of small robots. One robot nicknamed, Roadkill Rodney was used in cleaning up roadkill with long mechanical tentacles. Also, there were the Surveillance Droids, small spherical robots with a propeller which would be used to detect intruders around one's home.
"Baxter!" someone ahead shouted. He was a bigwig with T.C.R.I. The little man almost answered but then someone standing behind him replied instead.
"Yes," the man said. He was an African-American man who wore a lab coat just like the little man. He wore glasses like the little man, but his were not thick and nerdy; they instead made him look smarter.
"The blueprints were accepted," the big-wig said, stepping past the little man and shaking Baxter's hand. "T.C.R.I. are very pleased with the new pest control robots. They want to meet with you first thing tomorrow. Stockgen really came through on this one, sir."
"I am very pleased," Baxter replied. "Has there been any talk on the MACC units thus far?"
The big-wig shook his head. "Let's take this one step at a time, sir. I mean, replacing the police force with robots? That's going to take a lot of convincing."
"Understood," Baxter replied. "So first thing tomorrow?"
"That's what they said."
"So I guess I will see your team tomorrow."
The two men smiled, patted each other on the shoulder and went in opposite directions.
The little man gritted his teeth and shook with anger. What right does he have? He stole everything! Even my name! And he doesn't even know I am standing right here! He doesn't even acknowledge my existence!
"Janitor!" Baxter yelled from down the bridge. No one replied. "You with the yellow bowtie!" he said, and this time the little man turned.
"Me?" he asked, pointing at himself.
"Yes," Baxter replied. "You are the janitor, correct?"
He looked around and notice he was standing next to a mop and bucket. "Among other things," he replied, trying to give the title some respect.
"We have a spill over here. Clean that up as soon as possible. We didn't hire you just to work on robots, you know."
"Sure thing," the little man replied. "I'll get right on that."
"Good. We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, now would we?"
"No, sir," the little man said, taking hold of a mop. Then beneath his breath he heard himself say, As if no one has been hurt already.